At The Drop Of A Hat
by Hallow Eve
Summary: Four times Hatter didn't go see Alice and one time he did. Hatter/Alice.


**Title: **At The Drop of a Hat

**Summary:** Four times Hatter didn't go see Alice and one time he did. Alice/ Hatter.

**Rated:** K+ (to be safe).

**Warnings:** None really. Angsty though.

**A/N: **This is dedicated to my friend Cynthia who, like me, watched and loved Alice ( mostly due to Hatter) and who is an awesome vidder on YouTube. Check out her videos under Misscynthia17 or Cynth19Productions. Hope this isn't disappointing.

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_**~One~**_

His Tea Shop is in shambles. The bright green grass has been trampled and torn, showing the dirt covered concrete beneath. Chairs are overturned, including his favorite round white one, and desks lay on their sides by the windows, having carelessly been thrown aside by Mad March and the suits.

His various Emotions and teas are scattered upon the floor, their smashed glass containers winking at him in the bright sunlight streaming into the room. He notices that several of the more expensive and rare Emotions are missing, probably having been stolen by the likes of Ratty or someone similar.

Hatter stands among the wreckage and stares dully at everything he has ever worked to obtain lying broken before him. His wardrobe is in pieces; his coats, hats, and shoes covered with shards of glass. His largest desk is cracked in two, barely standing in the middle of the room.

Slowly, he walks to his chair and picks it back up, immediately plopping down into it as his eyes listlessly ghost over everything. The chair creaks in protest and wobbles for a moment before seeming to decide that it could still hold his weight despite how battered it was.

Hatter thinks he can sympathize. He feels beaten down and battered as well. He's been running on empty ever since he'd barely managed to escape from Mad March and his body is paying him back now in spades as all the aches and pains flare up.

His hands run over the fabric in his lap, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles from the velvet coat.

He knows better than most that time in Wonderland runs differently than in the Old World. He wonders if anyone has found Alice yet. If she's safe in her world, so different from his.

How long will it take for her to erase him from her mind? How much time until he's just another forgotten face?

Jack and him are almost complete polar opposites. Jack is royalty and acts well enough to prove it. Blond and perfectly coiffed and clever, if not a little shortsighted, he's undoubtedly good looking and dresses as much.

In comparison, he's undeniably scruffy and most often rude, wearing what's most comfortable for him and never without a hat on his head to cover at least some of his wild hair.

It's laughable really, how different they are.

And he meant what he said before. She's better off with the prince. He can offer her the world and all Hatter can offer is a cup of tea.

He'd seen them hugging and whispering together before the Looking Glass, their faces close and body language intimate. Jack will probably follow her back to her world once he's fixed the kingdom. Or maybe Alice will come to Wonderland. They'd be well off, more than Alice and him ever would have been.

He realizes his fingers are curled tightly, almost painfully, into the maroon coat, and he slowly uncurls them, sighing. He imagines he can still feel a little of her body heat and, even though it's a pathetic and probably creepy thing to do, he brings it up to his nose and inhales.

It smells a little like flowers, light and fresh.

He supposes Jack already intimately knows what Alice smells like.

A moment later he's standing on the ledge outside, having gone through the side door which was hanging on it's hinges, and is watching pieces of the jacket float down as he tears it to bits.

When he's done he turns and heads back inside his ruined shop.

He doesn't feel any less empty.

**_~Two~_**

Hatter loves tea. This is an undeniable fact.

It had been well known before that if you ever wanted to get on his good side all you'd needed to do was bring him a tea he hadn't tried yet.

He finds it calming and warm and almost always likes the taste no matter the flavor. Before his shop had been ransacked he'd had every kind imaginable, even some he'd managed to procure from the Oyster's who, despite their differences, could really make a good cup of tea.

Yes, Hatter loved tea, which was why he was baffled when, sitting in his newly refurbished shop (of course, he was actually selling tea and biscuits now instead of Emotions, which he found rather ironic) he took a sip of Jasmine and found it bitter to a sickening degree.

Oolong, Green, White, Black, it makes no difference. They all taste sour.

Disgusted, he sets down his cup and walks over to one of the windows. Maybe it's his environment that's making him feel so empty. He's barely left the shop and hasn't talked to anyone except customers and even then only the required amount of polite small talk that was expected. He really should get out more, maybe explore some of the land that made this place a wonder.

When he walks out the door he leaves a gently steaming cup of tea forgotten on the desk.

Hatter loves tea. This is an undeniable fact.

But he still doesn't drink it for three weeks.

**_~Three~_**

He visits Charlie often because, despite it all, he'd really grown to like the old codger.

He finds him, as usual, setting traps in the forest, hoping to ensnare the Jabberwocky, who he'd recently deemed 'his greatest foe'. Hatter doesn't have the heart to point out that, now he's not running for his life, his traps are plainly obvious.

He likes to sit and watch Charlie work on them though, partly through lack of anything better to do. He doesn't exactly have any friends and Charlie is perhaps the closest he's ever come to having one. He suspects that the White Knight thinks the same of him.

Between talking to thin air, meditating randomly, and reminiscing both about their adventures and the 'glorious days of the Knights', Charlie begins to hint more and more, none too subtly, that he's absolutely certain Alice would not mind seeing Hatter again.

After what seems like the fortieth time that he brings it up Hatter begins to avoid the forest.

He tells himself that it's because he's had enough of nature and not because he misses Alice so much that sometimes it physically hurts.

Because it doesn't.

At least, he tells himself so.

**_~Four~_**

He's taken to staring at the Looking Glass for what he's sure are unhealthy amounts of time.

He isn't sure what exactly he's expecting to happen, it isn't as though Alice will come tumbling out, a smile ready and arms held open to embrace him. No, that only happens in his dreams.

But still the mirror seems to draw him away from his shop everyday, leaving it closed more often than open, just so he can stare at it's gleaming surface.

The Looking Glass has been closed for months, ever since Jack Heart had overthrown his mother to become King of Wonderland. There's a very good chance that it might stay closed forever, or certainly for a very long time.

No longer are Oysters shuffled through the mirror to be drained. Emotions are a very rare thing to be found in Wonderland nowadays. At least the bottled kind anyway.

He's broken from his train of thought when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He doesn't turn to see who it is, his eyes locked with himself.

"Shouldn't you be making tea?" Ah. He'd know that condescending tone anywhere. Jack Heart.

"Shouldn't you be ruling Wonderland, Your Majesty?" He tries to make it sound more sarcastic than bitter. He's heard the Oyster saying that if you love someone you should let them go and he thinks of it now. It's a hollow platitude and does nothing to soothe the ache that her absence brings.

"Why not just go see her?" Jack questions, seeming to be genuinely curious.

"Because I'm not sure she wants to see me." She never trusted him enough. Not even to be on time to see her off. She had been going to leave without saying goodbye. The thought stabs at him.

"Are you so sure?" Jack replies and Hatter drags his eyes away from his reflection to see that he's smiling.

She hadn't been going to say goodbye to him but she'd certainly made time for Jack. He nods and decides to ignore the King. He can't have both her love and his respect. It wouldn't be fair.

"I offered her the throne, you know. The chance to be my queen."

Hatter feels sick and his reflection looks decidedly pale. He doesn't want to hear about the happy future they'll spend together. Not while he can recall her smile and the warmth of her embrace.

"She said no."

Hatter is so startled by this declaration that for a moment he does nothing but gape at Jack's reflection. The King's smile grows wider.

"I've found," Jack continued, " while in her world, that love is very much like an ocean. You can fight it until it almost drowns you or you can let it sweep you away. The question is whether you're brave enough to chance the swim."

And with that Jack walks out the door.

Hatter resumes his staring contest with the mirror, mulling over the King's words.

**_~Five~_**

He's standing in front of the mirror, examining his reflection with intense scrutiny, more concerned for his appearance than he's ever been before. A brown jacket has been pulled over a white t-shirt and he's even wearing jeans. He's made a special effort into taming his hair and, though it had certainly never been before, it had been strangely cooperative and as a result lay, now quite flat, on his head.

He looks completely different and it scares him to some degree. He twirls his trusty brown hat between his hands nervously before chucking it to the side. The Looking Glass is humming, the ring having been safely deposited in it's chamber. How the ring had come to be put in there on this particular day, just when he'd made up his mind, he'd had no idea, though he thought he had Jack largely to thank for that.

He takes a deep breath and jumps and he isn't drowning. Not anymore.

He finds her curled on the ground and immediately searches the vicinity for help.

When the ambulance arrives he tells them he's a construction worker that was doing some overtime when he saw the girl stumble in. They cast him questioning glances but take his word for it as they load her up into the back of the red and white vehicle. He asks to be allowed to ride with her and holds her hand the whole drive to hospital.

When they arrive she's taken away at once and, an hour later, he's allowed in to see her. He sits by her bedside and watches her sleep. Studies the rise and fall of her chest and the way her eyelids flutter just slightly as she dreams.

Thirty minutes later he meets Alice's mother, a woman who has stern eyes but a kind smile. She dresses fashionably enough, he supposes, but he's never been that interested in fashion to begin with. Her hair is a dirty blond color that's shocking in comparison to her daughter's dark locks.

She's extremely grateful to him for finding her daughter and tells him so several times, then practically demands that he come visit them tomorrow when Alice is out of there and healthy. He agrees to come over, not that he ever would have said no, and roughly nine hours later, rings the bell to their flat.

Alice's mother answers the door and his heart sinks for a moment, having half expected Alice herself to open it, only to race at the thought of seeing her.

He's ushered inside and then Alice walks into the room. She freezes, her eyes going wide and his mind goes blank with panic, wondering if he's made a mistake. But then she yells a delighted "Hatter!" and her arms wrap around him and he holds her close, breathing in her flowery scent and feeling unbelievably relieved and happy.

"Finally," he whispers aloud.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she says and he smiles for the first time in months before opening his eyes and pulling back to meet her light blue gaze. He presses his lips to hers in the next instant and she responds enthusiastically, cupping the side of his face.

And now he can finally admit what had him feeling so empty.

"I missed you," he breathes when they break apart and this time their mouths meet simultaneously in another slow kiss.

It was ridiculous how quickly he'd fallen. How he had been and would always be hers.

He must be absolutely mad.

But then, maybe he always had been.

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